


Hidden Truth

by StripedScribe



Series: Febuwhump2021 [24]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Arguing, FebuWhump2021, Gen or Pre-Slash, Injury, Lies, M/M, Memory Loss, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: Awakening alone in an alleyway, with no memory. No recollection of who they are, where they should be. A plea for help coming in the form of a forgotten friend, and then a secret held by the one closest.FebuWhump Day 24 [Memory Loss]
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Febuwhump2021 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136723
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Hidden Truth

“I can’t see. I can’t see.” They didn’t know where they were. The onslaught of a thousand senses, noises, smells, feelings all around. The stench of rubbish, were they near a dumpster? They still couldn’t see. The squelch of rubbish, they were in a dumpster, on top of piles of rubbish, rotting food, soaked cardboard. They needed out, needed to remember what had happened to dump them in here.

A struggle, climbing over the piles of rubbish, falling to the floor over the lip of the bin.

Where were they?

Who are they? No name, no identity.

Oh god. There was nothing. No memories, was this normal? They should know. Right? Even a name?

It hurt to think. To try and remember anything before the last few minutes of panic.

What did they know? They spoke English, okay. They weren’t injured, as far as they could tell. They were blind, and apparently this body was used to that, even if this mind couldn’t remember. Everything was overwhelming but they could focus it in. Could listen to the conversations of people on the street, all speaking English as well. They could get help.

The warmth on their face, it was daytime, the strength of the sun shining down. They were dressed, the denim of jeans, a hoodie, shoes. What had happened to leave them in a dumpster, with no memory?

Jack. A name spoken between two people on the street, but one that they recognised. Their name? It was close to them. A strong feeling, stronger than any of the other word’s they’d heard. It would do for now, a rough tick to that question.

If they walked, would they remember something new? A hand trailing on the wall, guiding them out of the alleyway, to the busy streets.

They had something before to guide them. Nothing but the open world around them, the feel of a wall under their hand, following the buildings. There was nothing recognisable. A hand found a bench, and they sank down to it. They needed help. Could they just ask a stranger? Was that a thing people did?

Was that something safe to do?

They stayed in silence for a while, letting their mind drift. Trying to catch onto memories.

Something about avocados they didn’t understand. Warmth. A family? Friends? College, sharing a dorm with someone. “You’re just a really great looking guy!”

Yes. Someone who cared for them, wait, no- for him.

His name was probably Jack. He had a friend, somewhere, but he couldn’t remember their name, or where he should be.

He must have a home somewhere, there was a key in his pocket. No phone. No wallet. No hints as to who he was.

“Matt?” A voice called across the road, another name he recognised. He ignored it, just another soul out walking, out knowing who they were. Someone sat down beside him, he nodded his head in acknowledgement but returned to his thinking.

“You look deep in thought Matthew. Time for a latte?”

He was talking to him. Someone who knew him?

“I - You know me?”

“Of course. What’s happened?” Warmth and concern from this person, someone who knew him. The steady thrum of their heart.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything, not even my name.” It was still terrifying. The knowledge that there was a person he didn’t know how to be, all those people and things he’d lost.

“Come with me, let’s get you into the warmth. You’re close to the church, I’ll call your partner.” A partner? He was married? There was no ring on his finger, had he lost it, alongside his memories?

He followed the stranger into a church, the feel of it bringing back more memories, a kitchen table in the basement he’d sat at many times. A brief phone call he barely listened to, his mind whirling, searching for what he’d lost.

“I can’t remember your name. I’m sorry.”

“Father Lantom, Matthew. You’ve been coming to my church for years. You truly remember nothing?”

“Nothing Father. Matthew - my last name?”

“Murdock. Matthew Murdock, son of Jack, bless his memory.” Jack. That name stuck in his mind, his father. Who was dead. A flash of the colour red in his memories.

“My mother?”

“You haven’t seen her since you were a baby. She left you, what we’d call now post-partum depression but they didn’t understand it back then.” Not dead, just missing.

“Nothings coming back Father. What if it doesn’t? I can’t remember anyone, anything.”

“Wait for your partner, we’ll take you to Metro-General, see if they can work out what could have happened. I’m sure it will come back in time.” All this optimism, and he supposed they had to be optimistic in a church. Anyway, what other choices did he have? Patience, and something gave him the impression he’d never been a particularly patient person.

Heavy footsteps down the stairs, his partner?

“Matt?” He turned around to the face them, and nothing was familiar. He didn’t recognise the voice, no name came to his mind. The confusion must have shown on his face, not knowing how to feel about this stranger, but knowing he shouldn’t be a stranger. That if Lantom had called him his partner, he was - was he married to him? Or partner in a different meaning?

“I don’t know who you are. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, we’ll fix this Matt. Even if it takes starting over. Hi, I’m Foggy, I’ve been your best friend for years. We own a law office together, and-” A pause, as though he stopped himself from saying something. “-and like everything, we’ll work this out together. Avocados at Law.”

That’s where the avocados came from. And another memory. “It’s abogados.”

“Of course you’d remember that. Come on, lets get you checked out. Luckily I can talk forever, so we’ll try and jog some memories on the way. No cane?”

Father Lantom replied to this one. “No, he didn’t have it.” It felt like there was something they weren’t telling him. Missed words, something big.

But everything felt like something big. Finding out his name, his identity. His friends, that he was a lawyer. Successful enough to own a law office together. He settled into walking with Foggy as they made their way to the hospital, hand resting on his elbow and being guided, warnings for kerbs and more.

It was familiar, he felt as though they’d done this a million times.

And then the ease at which Foggy filled out and checked his medical information, things he didn’t know about himself. His address, his phone number - “I don’t know where my phone is.”

“It’ll turn up, you might have left it at home.” That didn’t seem like something he would do. But he didn’t know himself, perhaps he went on walks often without a phone, without his wallet.

There still felt to be something big he was missing, being hidden from him. As they carried out scans, did blood-work, questions directed to both of them that only Foggy could answer.

Being dismissed, with the assumption it would continue to trickle back, that it was only temporary. It might come back all at once, or in bits over the next few days, weeks, months. Even years.

They went home, to an apartment he didn’t recognise. Bumping into furniture that surely had been there for years, relearning his own home. Sensing all the time Foggy sat there, watching him, worry radiating off of him.

Exploring his home, a stutter from Foggy as he opened a closet, finding a chest in the back of it. Silken fabric, the flashback of sound. “Battlin’ Jack Murdock.” His father’s.

And underneath, the leather and plastic of something strange. A suit, with a helmet.

Two horns.

Daredevil.

He was Matt Murdock, and he was Daredevil.

“This is what you weren’t telling me?” He’d been out, chasing someone, in day clothes instead of a suit. He’d fallen, into that dumpster, catching his head on metal.

His cane would be in another alleyway somewhere, where he’d dropped it.

Foggy hadn’t told him. Foggy knew and had tried to hide it from him.

“I thought it would stress you out more, you didn’t know who you were!” Lie, lie, lie. “I was going to tell you soon.”

“What, did you want me to just forget about that part of me forever? Re-teach me into a perfect friend, forget how to help everyone at night? A perfect little lawyer, no memory of his past.” More and more memories rushing back into place, until it felt like he was himself again. He dropped the cowl back into the box, turning to face Foggy. “You never approved of me doing this.”

“I thought I was helping you. I would have told you.”

“Eventually. You know, I imagine even if I hadn’t remembered I was Daredevil, I still would hear the people screaming every night and end up out there again. And not tell you again.” It wasn’t something he could escape, turn off when he’d had enough. They would always need help.

“I did it because I love you Matt! Okay? I thought this was one way to keep you safe, if you could recover for a little while without that knowledge and guilt forcing you back to the streets. If you could maybe even learn to go out less, to experience what it was like to not spend every hour of your life working or patrolling! I thought this would be a chance for us to start over.”

Start over. Erase who he was to make other people happy. “You can’t hide stuff from me and expect me to be happy with it! That’s who I am, Daredevil is a part of me! And I think I’ve got enough of my memories back to know that you’re supposed to be part of my life as well!”

Silence was all that met him, Foggy simply stood in the room. Shuddery breaths and he wasn’t sure what he was about to do. To shout back, to cry, to storm away. “I love you Matt. You know that, right?” All he could feel was guilt after that outburst. Foggy was too good for him and he wasn’t supposed to make him upset.

Foggy moved over to sit on the sofa, and it was Matt’s turn to stand lost and alone, still in his bedroom, listening to Foggy’s voice through the doorway.

“I was selfish for a little while, and thought this would work. It was a foolish hope, because of course you’d remember, or find the suit, but for a little while, we didn’t have Daredevil in our lives. I don’t know if I ever would have told you, to be honest.”

He joined Foggy, sitting opposite, close but still so far apart. A growing chasm between them. How easily trust was broken by simple actions. “I’m sorry. I can’t undo what I did, or what I didn’t say. I should have told you from the start.”

“I think I understand why. I’ve been neglecting you Foggy. Neglecting us, our friendship, our relationship.” A pause, space to think. “I love you too Foggy, and I want to make this work.”


End file.
